


Face The Pain You Often Cause

by Ackasi



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Brief mention of sex trafficking, Caring About Your Friends, Fake Character Death, Interpersonal Relationship Struggles, Lupin Faces The Damages Caused By Faking Your Death, Lupin Struggles Emotionally, Multi, Polyamory, Threats of Violence, Vague Suggestions of OT4/5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ackasi/pseuds/Ackasi
Summary: Inspector Zenigata is dead.Lupin crumbles at the revelation, and is forced to face the same pain he's put his friends through time and time again.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	1. Set The Stage For Your Own Demise

Between chasing an international thief, Zenigata had always been dedicated to international work. Within all of his time traveling the world, one positive of the Lupin case had been everything else he took down over the years. Zenigata believed in justice, that hadn’t changed and taking down drug rings, laundering schemes, and military operations is extremely fulfilling regardless of his official track record with the thief.   
  
What isn’t fulfilling however, is seeing the harm the disgusting people he works down cause. Zenigata had encountered people far, far worse than Lupin and his crew in his years on the force, but nothing compared to what he experienced one evening, dead center in a nothing European town.  
  
Sex traffickers, the lowest of the low, stashed away in a warehouse that fronted as a packing plant, carting terrified people off like property in conditions not a single officer could stomach.

* * *

Upon the day of the bust, horror and disgust ran high. Even for someone as seasoned as Zenigata, nothing about what they were doing came easy, and the man felt grateful that Yata wasn’t assigned this case due to the danger. Aiding the victims to safety was paramount, and quick work was made with the immense pressure on their backs.   
  
The sound of the first gunshot sent the inspector’s blood running.  
  
The shouting of his fellow officers, the traffickers, and the ear piercing noise of gunfire filled the air, and Zenigata made haste. Easily he could identify several men and women in plainview, and as he moved for cover behind of the many boxes in the facility, he shouted out,  
  


“Give it up! You’re surrounded!”

The shouting and gunfire continued, and upon looking out again he saw another man running forward at him, a knife in hand.

“Fuck you!” The man screamed, his pace getting quicker by the second,

Zenigata whipped out from the cover of the box, charging the knife wielding man, with intensity. The two figures meet, and before the man could slash at him, Zenigata grabbed the man’s wrist with his free hand, twisting it quickly to urge the knife out of his hand. As the knife clattered to the ground, 

Zenigata moved to kick it away, sending it spinning across the warehouse floor.

Zenigata forced his weight onto the man, but he refused to go down without a fight. With the man’s free hand, he reached for the pistol on his belt and with Zenigata struggling him to the floor, his aim was faulty.

  
  
* **_BANG_ ** *

Blistering heat tore through Zenigata’s side in an instant, and upon the sensation, it only forced the inspector to move harshly. Like on autopilot, he slammed the man to the ground, throwing his weight into him without hesitation. Pinning him down, Zenigata reached for his handcuffs, fingers only grazing across the red, burning pain in his side.

Cuffing the man, he screamed out, “We’re gonna kill you! You’ll fucking see! You son of a bitch! This isn’t fucking over!”  
  
Two officers ran over to Zenigata and the man, and it was now, as the adrenaline rush was fading in his brain he realized how the sound around the warehouse hand changed. No more gunfire, no more screaming, just distant sirens and the voices of his peers.  
  
The man was carted off by one of the officers, and the other rushed to Zenigata’s side. 

“Inspector, are you alright?”

Zenigata cringed, the shot was clearly a graze against his side, the bullet hadn’t penetrated, but it still hurt like a bitch.

  
  
“Fine” he lied, “I’ll get this patched up, let’s get back to the station.”

* * *

As it turned out, not everyone was arrested back at the warehouse raid, and the work was being done to track them down. What Zenigata did know from the piles of paperwork he read through while on recovery; the man who he arrested was the son to the head of the entire sex trafficking ring.

The words the man screamed played through his head for a moment, but Zenigata pushed them off. The damage these people did was horrendous. With hundreds of victims, he knew fully that the ICPO’s top priority was tracking the remaining criminals involved. He had nothing to worry about.

The first letter came one week after the raid.   
  


It sat clear as day on the pillow of Zenigata’s hotel bed. It was the night before he was planning on leaving back to Japan, and Zenigata couldn’t wait to get home. The red envelope burned against the white sheets, and Zenigata walked forward, picking it up and opening it slowly. 

A stark gold seal broke open.

Clean, bone folded cream colored paper. 

Bold black text filling his vision.

  
  
**Watch Your Back Inspector**

**  
****  
** Upon glancing away from the letter, worry bubbled in his throat. The patch on his side felt like it was stinging a bit, but instead of letting concern consume him Zenigata took a deep breath, pocketed the letter in his trenchcoat, then set out to check his room with caution. 

Checking under the bed, in the closets, and in the bathroom led to nothing, which then prompted the man to check for wire taps. Much to Zenigata’s frustration and relief, the room was entirely clean, not any indication of a break in or tampering.

Zenigata simply sighed, letting himself relax for only a moment, before making note to turn the letter into evidence in the morning. Sighing, he dragged himself to the bathroom to change, hoping his underlying nerves wouldn’t keep him up longer than he needed.   
  


* * *

The second letter was much, much more unnerving. It had been a week and a half since he had traveled back home to his apartment in Mikawa, and after reporting the threat to the team in Tokyo and turning over the letter to evidence, he allowed himself a moment to relax and heal.  
  
This was until of course, one hot summer night, loud bangs against the door of his apartment sent Zenigata shooting out of bed and reaching for his handgun. 

Sprinting towards the door, he watched as the mail slot opened and shut, a red envelope falling to the floor. Without hesitation, Zenigata swung the door open, pointing his gun into the hallway and he peered out.

Empty.

Zenigata signed, tucking his gun into the elastic of his pants as he stepped back and shut the door. Turning on the nearby light, the inspector drug his hand across his tired face. Picking up the envelope he again cracked the gold seal and took out the letter.

**Reporting us to your cop friends isn’t going to work, Kouichi. Believe me when I say your death is worth far, far more than you would know. Now more than ever.** **  
** **  
** **I hope you look good in a casket Inspector.**

**  
****  
** Zenigata swallowed down the lump in his throat, but that did nothing to ease the stomach dropping feeling he felt. Acute awareness of his situation felt unnerving. Zenigata, whether he liked it or not, was unique compared to most officers in the ICPO. Bounties on people like Lupin were common, he caused problems for people of all different statuses, and after fighting and working alongside the man for so many years, well…  
  
There are people in this world who would want nothing more than to see him dead.

This was no exception.

* * *

  
  


Often Zenigata spent his time in the commissioner’s office getting chewed out, screamed at for his failures to catch the thief across many expensive expeditions.

There was no such shouting, just a man with a terrified look on his face, and Zenigata sitting quietly in the chair across. The same white letter he had sitting on his desk for some time now, and Zenigata could feel it in his gut that whatever happened next wouldn’t be pretty.   
  
“There’s a bounty on your head Inspector.”   
  
Zenigata nodded, “Several sir.”

The commissioner sighed, “Regardless of your failures with the Lupin case,” Zenigata cringed at the comment, “you are far too valuable to this institution, and the threat of a bounty puts yourself and everyone around us at risk.”

Zenigata’s eyes widened, realizing just how dangerous his presence was right now, “What are we supposed to do Sir?”

The commissioner stood up from his chair, pacing for a moment behind his desk before speaking again.

“They want you dead, right?”

Zenigata nodded, a feeling of anxiousness bubbling within him.

“Then it looks like you’ll have to die.”

  
  



	2. The Moment Reality Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing the news is always hardest for the people who care the most

* **_BANG* *BANG* *BANG*_ **

Lupin groaned out, the early morning light filling his vision with an aching brightness. The slamming on his door could only mean that Jigen needed something, so he slipped out of bed, and moved gingerly to the door.

“Ugh What?!”

“Lupin! Get out here!”

The tone Jigen’s voice made Lupin’s eyes widen a bit. Harsh, angry...panicked? Lupin rushed to the door swinging it open into an empty hall.

Jigen’s voice sounded off again, quieter this time, but still panicked, “In here!”

Lupin moved to the sound of his voice guiding him to the living room, where he could see several shadows and hear a buzz of TV news chatter.

“Guys what’s going o-”

Lupin’s words fell flat when he saw them. Fujiko was on the couch, her hand covering her mouth; eyes a red, watery mess. Goemon was behind her, his head tilted down, hair covering his face. Finally he saw Jigen, hat discarded, bangs pushed up away from shock filled eyes.

Slowly, Lupin turned, looking towards the television the entire room had their eyes on, scanning the video, he saw a reporter sitting at her desk, a video of a covered body being rolled away on a medical stretcher. Then at last, he read the bottom ticker.

_ FAMED ICPO INSPECTOR K. ZENIGATA DEAD IN POLICE RAID _

For the smallest moment, only the reporter spoke.

Jigen was the one to switch the television off as soon as he could. 

The silence in the apartment was deafening now. If Lupin’s brain wasn’t in a state of absolute disarray, he would have been able to hear the dripping of the coffee pot in the kitchen, or the anxious tapping of Goemon’s foot, or the sniffling Fujiko was trying to hide.

Lupin couldn’t hear those things though. Lupin couldn’t feel the trio of eyes, glancing at him in order to gage the thief’s reaction. Lupin couldn’t feel the freezing AC against his bare skin as he stood there.

Lupin couldn’t feel.

Without a word to the trio of thieves, he stood there, stone faced, staring at the black television like the images of the bagged body were still being projected, then walked to his room, shutting the door without turning back.

* * *

Staring at the bathroom sink was Lupin’s only solace. The violent thump of his heart was dizzying, and as he clutched to the edge of the white porcelain, watching the water rush down the drain, he shook with anxiety.

Dead.

Zenigata was dead.

Lupin shook his head rapidly, moving to stick his face under the water. White clenched knuckles blended into the sink’s edge as he stood there, soaking himself in the numbing cold.

A knock at the door sent him shooting up, sending splashes of water all across the bathroom mirror, banging his head against the metal tap.

“Fuck! What?!”

Lupin’s hands flew quickly, the left clutching at the pained spot against his forehead, the other slamming against the sink handle to shut it off.

“Let me in Lupin.”

Jigen again.

Lupin sighed, shuffling over to the towel rack, he pulled one off the pole, pushing it into his face as he blinked away the remaining hot wetness from his eyes and rubbed away the wet chill from his face.

Opening the bathroom door, Jigen stepped inside. The gunman still wasn’t dressed properly, just simple pajamas, his hat still set aside in another room.

Lupin groaned out, holding the dark towel against his face purely so he didn’t have to look at the man. Once again, he found the sink, leaning up against it as he listened to Jigen walk in quietly behind him.

“What do you want Jigen?” Lupin questioned, the frustrated tension in his voice coming out heavier handed than intended.

  
  
“I’m checking on you, asshole.” Jigen asserted, his voice lower and choppier than usual.

  
“I’m fine.” Lupin lied, “You didn’t have to come in here.”

  
  
Jigen stepped forward, setting his hand on Lupin’s shoulder “You don’t have to bullshit me dude.”

  
  
Lupin swung back at the man, throwing his shoulder to escape Jigen’s touch, he stomped to the other side of the bathroom, putting his hands against the glass shower doors.

  
  
Lupin yelled out in frustration, “I’m not bullshitting you Jigen! I’m fine!” 

Jigen stomped right back up to him, “You don’t have to lie you asshole, I know you’re having a hard time, you didn’t have to leave!"

  
  
Lupin’s fists began to ball up, “I’m NOT having a hard time Jigen.”

Lupin began to breathe heavy, a rush of emotion running through him, all of it tracing directly back to the inspector.

  
  
“Why’d you even bother to wake me up Jigen!” Lupin began to pace, his bare feet smacking against the tile floor.

“I was sleeping just fine you know, not a problem in the world, and then you wake me up and for what?”

  
  
Lupin threw his hands in the air, as he turned to look at Jigen, the gunman saw a face filled with anxiety and doubt as he spoke,

“That’s not real! There’s no way in hell Jigen and you know that!”

Jigen took a step back away from Jigen, “They reported it on the news Lupin. He’s dea-”

“HE’S NOT DEAD!” Lupin screamed over him before Jigen could even finish.

The room fell silent as the two men stared at each other

Jigen opened his mouth to speak, “Lu-”

“I mean-c'mon Jigen,” Lupin laughed out, cutting off Jigen quickly, “He’s survived us for years! Car crashes, gun fire, bombs, even falling out of the sky! He’s a cockroach Jigen, there’s a zero percent chance he’s actually dead!”

  
  
Jigen closed his eyes, turned his head away from the thief and sighed, “Maybe you’re right Lupin,” Jigen admitted in defeat, unwilling to argue with the upset man, “Maybe he’s still alive, just uh-we’ll look into it more later, just get yourself cleaned up and meet us for breakfast in a bit.”

  
  
Lupin watched as Jigen left the bathroom, waiting for the gentle click of the doors closure, before he sunk down to the dirty tile floor.

  
  



	3. Reject It, It Will Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections, denial, and wanting things to be normal.

Jigen isn’t one to cringe at black coffee.

He was left to start breakfast following his conversation with Lupin. Fujiko left to do god knows what, only leaving with a short “I need to go,” and Goemon left to his room, leaving Jigen with a silent nod and a squeeze of the shoulder. Jigen knew that unlike Lupin’s hasty escape, they needed their time alone.

Seeing Lupin so heavily in denial felt...wrong.

Sure magic and oddities had never been out of the question for people like them, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t survived the worst before, but this was different. 

It was a police raid, it was a shootout against some drug traffickers gone wrong. Zenigata had been taking on a lot of cases like this when they didn’t have heists.

Jigen wasn’t expecting one of these cases to take him though.

He pulled the hot mug from his lips, shaking his head from the bitter taste. In the recesses of his mind, fighting away his thoughts of the news report, he remembered a heist in Germany. 

The freezing weather, the aching feeling for warmth and the desperation of a situation far above any of their pay grades left them in a garbage hotel in the recesses of Amsterdam.

Zenigata was with them that night.

Teaming up with the very same inspector who was trying to arrest them was a rarer occurrence back then. It was Lupin who dragged him back to their room in desperation, as the particular organization they were stealing from wasn’t exactly fond of any of them, including the inspector, living.

It was unbelievable late, and as far as Jigen knew, he was the only one awake. 

Jigen knows the motions of making shitty hotel coffee just as well as he knows how to use a gun, and on a night like that night, it was an important skill to hold.

So when he heard slow shuffling behind him, he clutched the handle of the steaming black weapon on instinct.

“It’s me Jigen”

It’s amazing how clear Zenigata’s voice is in Jigen’s mind after all those years.

The exhausted inspector scooted up to the counter next to Jigen with hesitation, his hair was disheveled, his hat thrown aside much earlier in the night; Jigen looked the inspector's body up and down, taking note of the tone of his chest, looking at the way he hunched from the beating they took that day, noting the all too familiar scars across his tanned skin.

Jigen nodded at the man, pointing at him with the coffee pot, “Want some?”

Zenigata smiled, his eyes squeezing shut as he yawned loudly, “Please.”

Jigen reached for a second mug, setting it on the counter, “Want anything in it?”

Zenigata nodded sheepishly, “A little sugar please.”

Jigen raised his eyebrow, “I didn’t pin ya as a sweet coffee guy.”

The inspector laughed quietly at the comment, “Everyone has to enjoy sweet things in life sometimes Jigen.”

…

Jigen put his coffee mug to his lips again, bracing for the sorrowful taste, glancing away from the sugar jar near the coffee pot as fast as he could. 

* * *

“Breakfast is done!”

Jigen’s voice boomed down the hall, and moments later Lupin heard the gentle closure of Goemon’s door as he slid it shut.  
  
Lupin climbed off of the bathroom floor, staring at himself in the mirror again, looking at the greyish purple circles under his stinging brown eyes he tried so desperately to ignore. He turned the faucet on again, feeling the chill of the water, he dunked his head in without hesitation. The cold felt numbing, the shock of the liquid was frankly, quite welcoming.  
  
The thief slammed the handle to shut off the water, and threw his head up, splattering the mirror, staring at himself one last time, before grabbing the same towel he used earlier and rubbing it aggressively against his face. 

Throwing the towel aside now, he walked out of the bathroom, moved to his nightstand to grab a cigarette, and moved to the bedroom door.   
  
_Take a deep breath Arsene…_

Lupin opened the door, and walked confidently to the kitchen.   
  
“Hey guys!”

Lupin’s forced smile instantly falters the moment he sees Jigen and Goemon.

Goemon is sitting across from Jigen, nursing a warm cup of tea, his eyes were lidded low with his hair pulled back away from his face.

His face…

Lupin wants to scream, he hates his brain in moments like this, absolutely despises it in fact. Years and years of deception and manipulation have helped him learn much more than he would ever need about people’s weaknesses. 

You notice things so easily when you’re like him and the look of dried tear stains across the samurai’s face made him want to escape the situation as quickly possible.

And Jigen…

The only thing worse than seeing pained emotion was undoubtedly seeing numbness.

Honestly, Lupin was jealous he could pull it off so well.

As quick as his smile fell, he picked it back up and forced it back on, moving to the table to sit with the duo. The food in front of him made his stomach turn, but hey, Jigen cooked it better than he could manage right now, so he might as well pick at it.  
  
Looking down at his plate, Lupin picked at the plain fried egg as the yolk ran into his toast; an American breakfast was probably the rarest one they would eat most days, but not a single one of them complained.

Quiet clinks of knives and forks, the occasional sound of ceramic mugs hitting the wood table, maybe a sigh here and there; God, Lupin couldn’t stand how depressing this felt.

Breakfast went on silently and Lupin knew fully well he didn’t want to break that now. When he “finished” his plate, he stood up, the screech of the chair was the loudest sound in minutes, which made the three of them flinch.   
  
Lupin shuffled to the sink, setting his plate down, he mumbled, “I’m going out.”   
  


Jigen stood up with his plate soon after, “You sure about that?”  
  
Lupin nodded, forcing himself to not retort negatively, “I’ll pick up dinner on the way home or something, just don’t expect me back for a while.”  
  
Jigen attempted to reach out to him, but Lupin evasively avoided his touch. Goemon, who had remained seated, spoke up softly,  
  
“Make sure you do come home Lupin.”  
  
Lupin turned away from them, waving dismally, “Don’t worry,”

“I will.”   
  


* * *

Lupin made his way out of the apartment the thieves shared, walking down to the homely yellow Fiat. The summer heat made him cringe, but he persisted regardless.  
  
As he got to the car, he wiggled out of his green suit jacket, and threw it in the back seat. Lupin tried to figure out why he felt so compelled to wear it, but he shoved the thought away as the engine came to life and the car’s AC kicked in.  
  
Shutting the Fiat’s door a little too harshly, Lupin closed his eyes for a moment.

He knew exactly where he wanted to go.

The road wasn’t too bad, a little winding and not as maitenced, with glowing yellow street lights that illuminated it at night.   
  
Rows of apartments, little restaurants and convenience shops that catered to the residents there. The place was so damn residential, little kids running after balls, hoards of cats that people always fed, even the elderly who were always so damn nice no matter who you were.

It’s the place Zenigata calls home.

Lupin released his clenched hands from the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, he began the process of pulling the car out.  
  
He’d be there.

He’d be there, he’ll come running back to their hideout with Zenigata on his tail.

He’d be there, and things would be fine.   
  
Lupin pressed on the gas.

  
The sooner he got there, the sooner things would be normal again   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The breakfast scene was as awkward as it was to write than it was to read I think. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Reading the comments and seeing the feedback on the first two chapters absolutely floored me. I haven't published a fic since pre-pandemic, and it means the world to me to see you all enjoy this!
> 
> There's a scene in the next chapter that is tied to some details in this one, inspired by art far happier than the idea it gave me.
> 
> For updates, sneak peeks, and general talking about this fic and my other work, follow my twitter @treasuretheft
> 
> heart you <3

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with a tweet about wanting a role reversal of Lupin constantly faking his death and hurting Zenigata and the gang emotionally.


End file.
